:: live ::

:: so, ::

2011-07-19T14:24:00.002-07:00

It's summer now. Good thing, because I hated Winter and Winter hated me back. I avoided it as much as possible, staying inside more than a human should and curling up like a cat in the rectangle of sun that would come through our bedroom window every mid-morning.

And I slept. Actually, I think "hibernate" is a more accurate word. I slept through most of January, February, and March. Woke up long enough in April to realize that it was still snowing. And why? When would it end?

But it's summer now, and I love summer. Something new happens in me when it's warm. I get warm too, and open myself up to possibility. It's been a while since I did that (which I'm ashamed to admit). I'm ready for change, which isn't my usual way. I'm ready to find a favorite coffee shop with David, to have "our" places and "our" Fun Things that we do regularly enough to say it's something that we do.

Fun Things have been the recurring theme of the last few months. Rather, their absence has. Medical school and nursing school -- the collision of those things in our lives -- have robbed us of what most normal people have: fun. I'm not just feeling sorry for myself, I'm being honest about our life. Yesterday David decided he will be postponing his next boards exam so he (and we) will have more time to study and -- oh yeah -- some time to live in the meantime. He made a schedule in his Google calendar. Every day on that schedule is me, "Fun Things with my Love." I actually started crying when I saw it. Which is when I realized how much of a strain it's been on my soul to wait every day hoping he will have time to enjoy with me, then going to bed another night with no time converted into memories, just hours spent hoping.

Hoping isn't all bad, but it's certainly not for the faint of heart. And glorious day! My hoping has turned into happening.

So here I am, in a too-warm house, writing it all down so I don't forget: the best is yet to come. (because, we're busy creating it!)

:: I blog all the time in my mind ::

2011-07-19T14:24:00.001-07:00

Doesn't that count?

:: lansing ::

2010-07-09T21:43:00.000-07:00

I love Lansing in the summer! We went for a bike ride at dusk, straight down Michigan Ave. and right at the river. There were fireflies blinking on the grass and people having drinks at the sidewalk restaurants. I never thought of it before, but it feels in downtown Lansing sort of the way I imagine France to be -- only with fewer accents and baguettes. At any rate, I love it, and it seems to love me back.

:: phoenix ::

2010-07-06T21:37:00.000-07:00

Somehow it is July, and the only words I've written in ink on paper have been in a woman's hospital chart. I am a student nurse. I'm tired. I'm happy.

David is in his first week of his first rotation: Internal Medicine. He loves it and is attacking it with the vigor of a climber on the first day as they set out from base camp at Mt. Everest. There's nothing but confidence in that moment -- and excitement, which will hopefully be enough to sustain even the weariest one on the most challenging day. He will conquer.

And although I'm to be writing a ten page patient assessment (or rather, because of this), my mind is brimming full of opening sentences for books without faces, without plots. I want to write even fiction when a health history is the alternative. Please -- someone make me write a poem or thought-provoking opening paragraph to an essay! Instead of dying, it would seem my creative side is a phoenix rising.

:: just ::

2010-06-28T21:27:00.000-07:00

I need to be up in about five hours, and need more than the usual amount of thinking and brilliance once I'm awake. This is probably why I can't sleep - no matter how I fold the pillow or how methodically I breathe. I am being held captive in Today, begging for passage into Tomorrow, and hoping this midnight writing will at least bump me up to business class if I ever make it on board.

For some reason I've been thinking a lot about 2006 as I lay here folding and unfolding my pillow. That was a particularly bumpy year for me, with highs and lows like an EKG beating in my days. I was visiting 2006 in my journal yesterday and came across an interesting bit of self-analysis. I wrote that my fatal flaw was that I didn't want to be alone, going into unnecessary detail about how that little fear would keep me from ever being un-alone. I was convinced it was the prison of my own making, a self-fulfilling prophecy. I thought of it like taking a candid photograph, which is impossible the moment someone knows there's a camera in their midst. Smiling at the camera is nice but isn't candid. Wanting companionship is great journal-material but also happens to be stronger than 100% DEET as far as companion-repellents go.

At least, that's how it seemed in 2006.

If I've learned anything about love & relationships since then (and I hope I have), it's that there isn't a fail-proof method for either attracting or deterring them. I don't mean you can't ever end a relationship or that you can't keep from getting into one. I've found ways to do both, albeit clumsily. What I'm talking about is that fatal flaw business, which is not about doing but being. I thought I needed to be something or someone different. Clearly, that was the problem all along, right? I wasn't her. I guess I'm glad to feel, in 2010, that I am her. And looking myself over carefully, I see that I've been her all along. That there wasn't something terribly wrong in 2006 that I expertly mended between then and now. I'm just me.

And I'm really happy to be.

:: worth ::

2010-06-02T19:23:00.000-07:00

Some nice person left me a comment today, and now I feel like a writer again. Thank you, Nice Person. Writing is what was supposed to be happening in between everything else, and really, because of everything else I'm chasing after. Incidentally, there has been quite a bit of chasing and not much documentation at all. I've hardly written a word. It's almost as if none of it ever happened. So for record's sake, this little post will be the first page in old library books, stamped with just the essential information. Most people will skip over it; a few will find it fascinating that no one at all checked it out for two solid years and then three different people read the book in a month. I'm writing this for the latter.

I started nursing school. I did it. Or rather, WE did. All of us. Everyone who told me I'd make a great nurse. All of the sick people in Gerai who let me see firsthand what suffering comes when no one knows how to sterilize or bandage. And the crazy poet who never stopped talking. Maybe her most of all.
We planted a garden. Spinach, peas, carrots, kale, swiss chard. I'm most proud of the swiss chard because it is pink. Turns out I like pink things, even leafy pink vegetables. It will make the prettiest salad.
I've been married for five months. Five! Someone asked me today what I thought the purpose of marriage is, if it's to have children and populate the world or if there's something deeper going on. I'd have to say, at this five month mark, there's been no earth-populating and yet I know we're not stagnant. We're busy figuring out how to speak the same English. What "now" and "later" and "on time" mean. How to be nice when it's 88 degrees and the electrician still hasn't come to put in the ceiling fan.
I am in bed by 11 now. Most of the time. Sometimes even 10:30!
I started a book about third culture kids today. Although I've known about this book for a while, and even talked about it at length with a stranger in the Jakarta airport last summer, reading it for myself today made me teary-eyed. In a happy way. It's nice to be re-reminded that I'm not alone, not half as weird as I feel, and every bit as important as that Nice Person made me feel.

The end. (for now)

:: normal ::

2010-04-07T12:27:00.001-07:00

There's nothing wrong with my life. I am healthy (except for a broken tooth... more on that trauma some other day when I'm ready to talk about it), have a refrigerator full of food, got plenty of sleep last night, have a list of things I could and should be doing, and am loved. I have friends to talk to, a bright future, journals and photo albums filled with the vibrant back-story. There's nothing wrong with my life.

So why are there still longings, stirred sometimes by something as simple as a song? I used to think that if I felt alive when I was on stage singing that I must then be made to sing. Other people are quick to agree -- you should be doing this, Mandy. The same is true of writing. Putting words in order, the best words in the best order (poetry), reaches places in me that otherwise are unstirred. Am I then made to write? Should I wake up every morning and fill pages up with me?

I realized recently that I have a hard time being honest about my life. I have no trouble telling you, if you are in front of me and we are talking, just exactly what I think and how I made an idiot of myself in this way or that. Or perhaps I will demonstrate on the spot by saying something no one ought to in such a place or time. I do things like that.

But it's harder for me to talk about waking up in the morning, the complete lack of motivation I have in the moments of my life that add up most. The fundamental ways I fail by letting things like an empty toilet paper roll frustrate me. Love keeps no record of wrongs.

I always wanted to be a shooting star, and I think I finally figured out why. Because it's easy, in one brilliant moment, to be perfect and beautiful and important. It is much, much harder, on the other hand, to maintain my regal posture whilst doing the laundry and stirring together my third curry of the week, or sitting quietly writing answers to a Bible study that no one will ever even read. It is so much harder to be good when you know everyone has stopped watching.

I think it is possible to die of boredom, or monotony. We wait all day to watch the sun set. I guess I want to stop waiting, to find quiet nobility in being normal.

:: August 7 ::

2009-10-15T22:39:00.000-07:00

So I'm somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, about an hour from Taipei, flanked by two of the greatest, also most fantastically bored, nieces. I love these kids. Even when Ellise doesn't stop asking questions and Kaela says she needs to go potty in ten minute intervals (and doesn't -- she just wants to walk down the aisle).

Ellise has taken a huge interest in the safety information card in her seat pocket. I think she knows every airline procedure for a water landing, down to taking off her high-heeled shoes before sliding down the inflatable ramp.

When the girls were sleeping, I was thinking about what I'd do if the plane really did crash in the water and I was trying to save them. It just seemed so obvious that I would rather die myself than left one of them suffer or drown. I love them.

And I wondered if this is what it might feel like to have my own kids someday.

:: August 2 ::

2009-10-15T22:37:00.000-07:00

A strange day. A goodbye sort of day. I cried at only the inappropriate moments. When it counted, I couldn't find any tears. Two people cried at me and I just stood there, helpless to conjure up the proper emotion. I am deficient.

:: niece 3 ::

2009-10-15T22:34:00.000-07:00

Selene comes in about a week -- Selene, who is under ten pounds right now and hasn't learned to breathe yet, and will someday smile at me, maybe sing with me, be one of my favorite people. I'm ready for you, baby! Please come early so I can see you before I go to Bali!

(She didn't come early.)

:: july 31 ::

2009-10-15T22:31:00.001-07:00

On this very last day of July, I am actually in bed with plans to sleep, and it's just after 11. I have not been getting enough sleep. I am tired, tired, tired, and ready for a vacation. Fortunately, that vacation is just 3 work days away from me. I love you, Bali. I just wish David was coming too.

Speaking of David, he is wonderful. I don't use that word lightly, either. He is my quiet in the middle of a crazy life, or my laugh when everything is going dark. He is so kind and generous and hopeful. He thinks I'm beautiful, too, says he forgets and then stares at me in wonder when he's reminded. It's really like being a princess, only instead of a whole country of devoted peasants I just have one adoring subject. He's my favorite subject, too, comes up in all sorts of odd conversations. And the magnificent part is, I don't even feel badly bringing him up. It's like I'm supposed to. (I guess I am.)

:: July 14 ::

2009-10-15T22:23:00.001-07:00

I went to see Coldplay with Jessica, as her "adult." I love being all grown up. :)

Coldplay was as it should be -- mind-bogglingly superb, with music that everyone sings word for word and a show put together specifically to inspire awe.

I loved every second of it.

2009-10-15T22:15:00.000-07:00

The Things I Let Slip

It isn't the usual things
which go noticed. I never
take a sick
day. I'm dressed and pressed
have three job
titles none of which quite
fits.
No, it is those other quiet
more obliging guests,
letters which sit
never ripped open.
Questions, nice ones, like how
do you do? I don't have enough
room for any
thing new.
It's the essences, the blood,
not the bones.
I'ts me that's slipped.

:: July 4 ::

2009-10-15T22:14:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday, America! To celebrate, I decided to spend half the day working out how to get my beautiful nieces a visa to leave this blessed land. Not forever, of course. They'll be back.

:: June 30 ::

2009-10-15T22:12:00.000-07:00

I am one the edge of crying. I feel so pressed on every single side, sides I didn't even know I had, or had forgotten about. I'm tired. I want to sleep all day. I have been going -- going, going going -- for months. Maybe years. Lansing is my only rest. David is my safest harbor. I am so grateful to be anchoring there soon.

(I love you, David.)

:: june 25 ::

2009-10-15T22:09:00.001-07:00

Somehow, in the time it took me to blink twice, this week has come and almost gone. No one told me online summer classes would take up every millisecond of my "free" time. I'd also forgotten how much I love Vacation Bible School. I'll miss it, alot. I hope I'll be able to do things like it in Michigan. Am I really leaving? I don't understand that yet. It all feels like fiction to me. Maybe one day I'll have kids who will read this and their only existence will depend on my walking forward, with any courage I can muster, into their future. Into my future. Let's go, all of us!

:: June 15 ::

2009-10-15T22:06:00.000-07:00

It's nighttime everywhere in America, even in Hawaii. I'm very tired, mostly from trying to fit reason into my thoughts. We all live by rules, whether or not we admit to them. Movies are entertaining because people in them do more than just entertain the thought -- they act on them. Tonight, I am not acting on about 7 different very interesting scenarios. I'm in a queen-sized bed with polka dotted sheets. There is no theme music. There will be no credits. And thank goodness -- I don't know who I'd blame for all this normal.

:: baccalaureate ::

2009-10-15T22:02:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in a baccalaureate, looking at the backs of high school heads. They're all walking through what I did nine years ago, but I feel like we're walking together. The winds of change are blowing -- they're tousling my hair. And it might not be my day, but it's my graduation too. I'm leaving so may things behind, learning to live without alot I thought I needed, learning to stand on steadier legs. I am ready for what comes. I am just ready, inside.

"History will look favorably upon me,
for I intend to write it. " Winston Churchill

:: May 31 ::

2009-10-15T21:58:00.000-07:00

"Quit running away and chase your dreams -- "

I feel like that's what I'm taking the risk to do. I need to write. I need to start blogging again. Not only big things. Boring things. Silly things. Any things. They're all my life, and my life is valuable.

I think school has pushed alot of things out of the way. I have lost a few things, and I want them back. They are:
- writing poetry
- blogging
- living in a clean room
- hanging out with friends with no time limits
- "Take care of yourself, take care of each other, take care of this place."
- writing letters
- sitting in the sun
- loving David better

:: May 27 ::

2009-10-15T21:57:00.000-07:00

I'm finished with Anatomy & Physiology -- just like that. Two little tests and I'm free. I'm a little shaken by the speed of life lately. I haven't had my seat belt on. God, I need you. I am so tired.

:: content ::

2009-10-15T21:53:00.000-07:00

I always thought when I was single that I would be content once I was in a relationship. Not surprisingly, I have found a great many things to make me discontent even in these last blissful months. I never would have accepted that before, but now I think I was just masking a different issue. I thought was completely happy except. I didn't have the one little thing that would make everything else glow.

Sadly, there is a deeper problem at work -- a heart unwilling to just be. And see, that's the real problem. I am almost content, but. And that does not go away. In fact, it can be worse in a relationship because there are now two people to cause problems, to steal my fragile happiness.

:: butterflies ::

2009-10-15T21:52:00.001-07:00

I don't live in a constant state of butterflies, but when they come, I love them.

:: May 1 ::

2009-10-15T21:46:00.000-07:00

Tonight a strange wind is blowing, quite literally. There's something about the dark that doesn't settle well -- I've always wondered why a perfect world needed night. I suppose a perfect world could enjoy it best, with all its glory and none of its worry.

:: March 15, again ::

2009-10-15T21:37:00.000-07:00

Somehow I ended up in an "economy plus" seat on this United Airlines flight. I'm not fancy so this is maybe the first time that's ever happened and that by no special doing of my own. So there's extra leg room. And as compensation for my good fortune in last-minute ticket purchasing, I also happen to be seated by the largest human I've ever shared company with in an airplane. So Fate, we're even. Thanks.

:: March 15 ::

2009-10-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

The ides of March. Yesterday was pi day, 3.14, which was also David's 30th birthday. And the day before that was the day he asked me to marry him. It's been a big weekend.

And you would think I would write. Normally I write out of overflow. Either that or out of absence. This weekend has been both of those extremes. I suppose maybe they've balanced each other out. It hasn't felt like balance, though. It's felt like crying, slow-dancing, shaking, hoping, praying, praying, praying.

Friday. It was Friday the 13th, actually, a really dark day. I was at Uncle Max & Aunt Carolyn's in Detroit. David was in Lansing, studying. He took his exam, and by the time he had come to pick me up there was an email sitting quietly in his inbox, waiting to punch us in the stomach.

He didn't pass. Three little words. Three terrifying little words. What does this mean? We knew before he took it that failing could mean the end of medical school. But he wasn't going to fail -- he was going to study and do really well. I was almost comfortable. I was trying to believe I wasn't nervous.

But he didn't pass. So we walked around all day, doing menial things together, holding hands. We bought a cushion for his papasan. And a lampshade. We went to see Confessions of a Shopaholic. After the sun set, he told me there was a little surprise for me at his house. I was afraid he might be planning to propose. That, honestly, was the very worst part. I hated that I was scared about that. It's just that I was scared in general. A lifetime commitment is frightening all on its own, partly for the shadowy, nameless hardships waiting to be shared. But when those hardships have a name, when that name is Today, then it makes the idea of life sound like a bitter pill.

So I spent the whole time mulling it over. Am I ready to sign my name to his insecurities and imperfections and -- yes -- failures? Do I want to be here tomorrow? In a hundred tomorrows? Am I strong enough for this?

Anyway, at the end of the movie, I started crying, but it actually felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds. I had been praying all day, remember walking into a bathroom that day thinking -- what really matters in a relationship? What does Jesus' heart value? God, can you please make me like You?

So in tears but with great sincerity I told my broken boyfriend: you're going to lose alot more and win alot more in life, but I know I want to be there for it all. I do.

(And it's true.)

So I suppose I said yes before he could get on his knee and ask the question.

:: new post ::

2009-10-15T20:28:00.000-07:00

There. I did it. I pushed "new post," and with that I'm back in this relationship. It's a tricky thing we're doing here, me trusting nameless yous with things I might not be brave enough to bring up even over dinner. But that's the beauty of it, I suppose.

It's not that I don't want you to know what's been going on. Maybe. I mean, I didn't consciously stop writing here. There are just some places I've been that I wasn't sure I could take you to. Life is safe in retrospect, though, so I've decided we should have coffee and catch up. And by that I mean, I'm going through my journal to find the signposts that lead us back to today.

:: ok ::

2009-10-03T22:10:00.000-07:00

Feeling much better today, although wishing so much weren't based on "feeling." I have been a smorgasbord of emotions, gorging myself on each one. Pity me, I am alone and friendless. Kiss me, I am your love. Go away, I need to be alone. Help me, I am a wreck.

Even I can't analyze this properly. Even I am confused. I am simply grateful that: today, I feel happy for the first time all week. And even though I don't know quite why, today that is enough.

:: sick ::

2009-10-02T22:02:00.000-07:00

As convenient as it is to spend every waking moment with David, I need to create space. I was just thinking about being apart, about the intense longing that constructs and the monuments we make of being Away.

But I haven't been away at all. Apart from a few weekend trips -- blissful separations -- it has been all David, all day. I think I'm love-sick, but in the worst kind of way. I'm all sticky and drenched and feeling ridiculously empty. Which makes everything else feel awful too. It's like clouds covering over the sun. One minute I'm fine, the next it's a storm I'm too afraid to put a name to. I'm thinking thoughts no bride-to-be ought to, and not the naughty kind, the turning and running kind. I start to feel trapped, though I know well that I'm not. And I feel lost, swamped in things To Do, but none of it matters if the things I feel are all wrong. I'm wrecked.

And he, careful, constant Heart, wants to repair me with scripture, or with the power we hold to make the right choices. Well, the only best decision I could have made today would've been to find a little breathing room. It's too late now; I'm suffocated.

And the worst part is, it hurts David to see it. I wish I could spare him of that -- I do. (I love you, David.)

:: boards, part I ::

2009-09-09T21:56:00.000-07:00

David got his boards score back today: he got 165 and needed 180 to pass. Those numbers might be off by a bit, but the gist of it is: he didn't pass. So after about a month of worry-free living, I am back to a familiar burden, slinging on my back the cares of this entire spinning planet. White Atlas and I both know it's futile, we go on. Only this time, I am too tired to go on, so I'm stopping here to rest, to unload, to learn better, lighter ways of living.

:: goodbye, bali ::

2009-08-18T21:48:00.000-07:00

A baby is screaming. We haven't even taken off yet and this kid is fighting himself into a stupor. Why do his parents let him? Or is it not a matter of letting? All I know is, I am ready to fashion a muzzle for the screaming thing.

A man was sitting in my seat when I boarded. He didn't even give me the choice to let him stay -- just stayed sitting there. Told me in broken English, "I'm travel with my family." I suppose I wouldn't want to be in a row with a mom & two kids. Plus, they're directly behind The Screamer. So I walked away from my glorious aisle seat to find his replacement: naturally, the middle seat in the middle of the plane. Perfect.

A really boring documentary about the music of Johann Strauss is playing as people jockey for space in the overhead compartments. I don't know why they put the least interesting shows on when people have no choice of watching or not. I guess it could have a wide audience since everyone is probably equally bored by it.

:: new management ::

2008-11-06T16:18:00.000-08:00

She teaches class the way an auctioneer sells off an estate. There is no silence, as though silence would punish us with its presence, would take something away from us just by existing. But sometimes silence does us good. Sometimes it pushes us to do what we wouldn't in the noise, make us say I'm sorry in the rippling wake of angry words.

She wrote an angry word -- no, a whole angry sentence -- on the wall of the girls' bathroom. They closed it for the day to paint over the sentence, and I might not have thought about it again except that My Name was the noun, followed by a common state of being verb and a predicate nominative (I learned that in 7th grade English, the same year I learned how much it hurts to be called fat). It is one thing to tell the truth, to offend with a mirror, but it's other broken glass to say: this is, when, it isn't. Pushed into the skin and bleeding, in stillness, in any ordinary silence.

So it's a good thing this woman isn't letting any silence in. Good thing.

:: too many coats for one checked bag ::

2008-10-16T01:39:00.000-07:00

If the entire state of Michigan freezes over this weekend, I'll be fine. I just packed a suitcase with the dead of winter in mind.

:: 100% beautiful ::

2008-10-13T16:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had the privilege of meeting Viviana, David and Veronica's brand-new daughter. She's pretty tiny, and sleepy, but perfect for holding. I took their wedding pictures a little less than a year ago, so it was pretty crazy to be holding the new addition to their family. Especially since I've known David before there was ever Veronica!

But I'm so glad there's both Veronica and Viviana now, David's two beautiful ladies. I'm so happy for you!

2008-09-15T16:58:00.000-07:00

I should have known chocolate chip cookies could be a spiritual experience. I mean, they are glorious in pretty much every way.

So today, I made cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. They are delicious and warm right now, filling the house with that Taste of Home smell. And I'm also sending them away, today to someone who will be more excited about me, the cookie maker, than the cookies. I got a little teary-eyed thinking about that, about how many cookies I've sent off in cardboard boxes, to be consumed entirely out of sheer enjoyment of the cookie with very little thought to me, the one who stirred them all together.

And I was thinking about that, getting emotional about cookies, when I realized that I do the same thing to God. Maybe I was even doing it right then, being exceedingly pleased with the cookies without thinking about Him, the best cookie maker ever.

So thanks for the cookies, God. They are delicious, but mostly:

You Are.

2008-08-28T14:51:00.000-07:00

2008-08-07T16:54:00.000-07:00

On a bottle of pomegranate flavored Honest Ade:

"To achieve great things, two things are needed;

a plan, and not quite enough time."

- Leonard Bernstein

:: of late ::

2008-06-20T02:26:00.000-07:00

I feel like I've been taking alot of pictures. I also feel like I'm losing my mind. While the latter is unconfirmed, I thought I'd share some of the things I've gotten to see this past month.

And of course my extraordinary nieces, Ellise and the Bear-bear:

2008-06-11T11:34:00.001-07:00

Somehow just rolling the windows down and turning the music up makes the whole day smile.

2008-05-17T00:53:00.000-07:00

It smells like formaldehyde in here
From all the preservation
Of a Death Thing I've been
Doing lately,
Which is just a waste of time
Unless it's research we're conducting,
And let me tell you
I have journals-full of theories proven:
I deserve a medal of distinction
For my study on the extinction
Of your kindness when I walk into a room.
And though I am a creature of
The perpetual habit of caring,
I'm going with my baser instincts on this one:
It's time to leave the lab.

2008-04-29T23:52:00.001-07:00

I just watched three cigarette-smoking teenagers fish money out of a fountain. What kind of person steals someone else's wishes?

:: on disappointment ::

2008-04-29T23:27:00.000-07:00

3.21.08

I am feeling largely apathetic, which is a pathetic way to approach a day. I am in the process of being broken, bit by bit, because I'm of little use in this over-confident state. I handle disappointments by deciding I never really wanted that in the first place. But I know. I know.

Mostly I want to be loved. I am afraid of failing. I want to go to a safer place, a place where achievement doesn't matter, where what I know doesn't make a hill's bean of difference. (that's right: hill's bean) Mostly I want to grow down, back into childhood, back into when I didn't understand how things worked. Now I feel like I'm in a corridor of doors, finding most of them locked -- no. Finding that they are opening and closing constantly, allowing only some in while denying the rest, and always based on the things I try to tell myself I don't care about. I don't really get life. I don't.

3.23.08

I guess the good news is, I won't be lulled to sleep by any of my life events! But like an air raid is a sure fire bet that it won't be a boring night at home, this is no consolation.

A part wants to just go home. The other pushes on.

:: the good thing about wearing my heart on my sleeve ::

2008-04-29T23:26:00.001-07:00

At least you know I have one! (and I do, have both heart and sleeve)

:: bali morning ::

2008-04-17T23:48:00.000-07:00

Woke up this morning and went walking on the beach. I love it here. I want to go buy beautiful Balinese things -- and eat. I want to understand all of my relationships thoroughly. I want to see my life rolled out like a scroll, and have some white-out on hand. God, I want to choose you first.

:: indonesia ::

2008-04-12T23:42:00.000-07:00

Ah, Indonesia, how I love your smells and abundant green grassy areas and staring people. I am a princess here. I forget that until I am the only white one, about one airport away from Jakarta. Then I am crowned again and begin casting benevolent smiles all over the place, tipping my royal head to the shy brown babies who just want to touch me.

They love me. They really love me.

:: on the road again ::

2008-04-11T17:07:00.000-07:00

I must look honest as I have been left so far today to watch people's bags, computers, and (right now) an iPhone.

I always say this when I'm traveling and thus must say now: I love traveling! I love meeting people and hearing what they're going to do (one lady is headed to Singapore to set up payroll for a brand new casino; a guy who manages a Bubba Gump's on the east coast is going to Malaysia to open one there). I love hearing languages I don't understand spoken in little waiting room bunches, mostly families, often arguing.

The iPhone guy just came back. He tells me I'm a novelty here because I'm in a room full of brown people (I'm in Taipei). I hadn't noticed the staring, but in this moment they might be noticing more than my fair skin. They might, for example, be wondering why I smell like everything the Duty Free store sells (**note to those who have traveled with me before: I just made my usual stop there for face and fragrance renewal**).

And I would muse some more but the waiting room seats just cleared and a line appeared in front of me. Apparently, it's time to board.

:: something big ::

2008-04-05T23:37:00.000-07:00

I'm at a women's retreat and she's talking about plans. She just said the magic words: God has big plans for your life. Word. For. Word. And we're getting the formula right now -- quick! Write it down! (Why do I sound so jaded? The answer belongs outside of these parentheses.)

I just don't think we should be the subject of that sentence. God has great big plans. True. Period. And like any cause, once you're in, it doesn't matter if you're the secretary or the right-hand-man, there is an excitement in the air. We're part of something big!

Indeed we are. If only we talked more about God and less about ourselves.

:: kaela ::

2008-04-02T00:27:00.001-07:00

:: balboa park ::

2008-04-01T23:14:00.000-07:00

The girls in my small group had spring break last month, so three of us spent a day in the park. The following is the proof.

:: kaela bear bear bear ::

2008-03-23T23:26:00.000-07:00

Everything was fine with the present-opening at first....
... until it just wasn't anymore. She was past consolation, and I can't even remember why. But that's fine. It was her party so, as we all know, she can cry if she wants to, cry if she... anyways.
Party? We're there. Birthday crowns? We're on it.

In what was a smashing success of a 1st birthday, Kaela-bear is now one year old. She can't tell you that yet, but she's working on it. First she'll learn how to say "maahhn-dee!" It's a matter of priorities.

2008-03-16T21:56:00.001-07:00

I just like white better.

(that was for you, Brian)

:: extraordinary ::

2008-03-16T21:49:00.000-07:00

Something extraordinary. She said she's waiting for me to do something extraordinary. And that's not to lay pressure on my cocoon lest my shimmery-wet beginnings get bent. No, she's just waiting by my branch for the someday emergence. Because she is so sure I'm coming out of that cocoon glorious.

And I'm terrified that after all this time I'll turn out to be a moth, whose wings are only almost pretty when they're resting (just the opposite of a butterfly that shines in its flight and folds it all up for repose). I always say -- yes, I'm teal and purple and you won't be able to imagine how fluorescent my wingspan is! But inside, when I'm going to sleep, I just wonder quietly to myself: will there ever be a coming out?

2008-03-16T21:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I say stupid things. Really. Stupid. Things. They just come flying out of my mouth and I want nothing to do with them, want to yank them back into the silence of having never been said, but I can't.

And I haven't learned anything profound about this lately but am just writing because I said two Stupid Things today and can't get them back. By telling you here I have now shared a bit of the burden with you, so thanks for lightening my load. I appreciate it.

:: march and starbucks and life ::

2008-03-01T01:23:00.000-08:00

2008. I'm used to the sound of that now and I suppose I should be considering it's been two whole months. March is just the next customer on a very busy day, with the line of months going out the door till 2012. I can see them all waiting, impatiently, to step up to the counter with their order of the usual mundane things. And maybe one or two exceptions like a tall epiphany or one venti conversation that is supposed to change the course of my life.

Looking all of them over with their no surprises and few possibilities I take my apron off: I don't want to serve them anymore.

2008-02-22T01:20:00.000-08:00

There was a full lunar eclipse on Wednesday. There was also a giant rain cloud over my portion of the sky. I was exceedingly pleased with the rain and even skipping in it as I walked into work. (I love rain) Until I realized that the same happy rain that was misting my eyelashes was covering up my hopes to see an eclipsing moon. Blast.

And isn't that just how it happens to me. Good is a beautiful curtain in front of glorious, and once I notice this I can't even enjoy good anymore. Again, blast.

2008-02-20T01:00:00.001-08:00

Why am I still awake? I was headed to bed an hour or more ago but restless. Wrote some emails. Checked something off my To Do list. Read a post about community and that felt like cold water in my face. Now how am I supposed to sleep?

Earlier tonight I was listening to a condensed history of missions, from the Gauls to William Carey. Something about sitting in that room makes me fill up pages in my journal -- but I'm still listening to the speaker, I promise. I multi-task. And I digress.

Anyway.

Tonight I was writing about the lost feeling I've been having and the multiplicity of answers people have given as the way to find a way again. I am afraid of most of the solutions, primarily because I'm leery of anything being offered as a "solution" to some supposed "problem." We're all about fixing things, in the most expedient way, and then driving out of the pit to reach 200 miles an hour again. But right now I don't think I want to be fixed at all. I think I just want an arm around the shoulder, or a hand on my back. And I don't want either of those to exist in connection with something I have or haven't done, or have or haven't been this past week.

(does that answer your question, Mandi? A more thorough reply is on its way...)

2008-02-19T21:45:00.000-08:00

He never stops smiling. In fact, his smile is so perpetual as he talks that I have learned a few things about consonant pronunciation: it is possible, for example, to create the same sounds with lower lip and teeth as lower and upper lip. Like an "m." Apparently the same sound can be accomplished without a smile ever disappearing.

And the thing is, he's talking about the glory of God -- as revealed through the death of his firstborn baby boy.

2008-02-14T00:32:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day of my 26th year. It has only been 20 minutes so I don't really feel like I'm in it yet. But here it is, a day in which (apparently) women even send themselves flowers. How pitiful we are, and I don't mean the women. How we have made a spectacle of romance, have so charmed ourselves into believing it is the pinnacle that even those watching believe all the hype. If that is the peak, I want a different mountain to climb.

But I do want to acknowledge the beauty of love. I watched an old man push his grocery cart to the car today. In the middle of his canned food and fruit was a big bundle of long-stemmed roses. I smiled. A teenager was picking out a teddy bear in the store, laboring over the choices (and there were plenty). I rolled my eyes. But I have been her.

Not this year. No, this will not be a chocolates and hearts February 14th for me (unless someone brings theirs to share at the office). But just because it isn't mine doesn't mean it isn't someone's. Alot of someones'. So to every tenderhearted woman who will be duly touched by an unspontaneous yet sincere affirmation of her value today -- to you I say: happy valentine's day. (I hope he writes more than just his name on your card.)

2008-02-04T00:15:00.000-08:00

I've always thought of being sick as just like being well -- only with a permit to stay in bed and read a book or watch tv all day. But the trouble with being sick is usually one or two places hurt quite alot. Like your head, not permitting you to read. Or your stomach, not allowing you to think, or really even breathe properly.

So I think we should just suffer at work when we're sick and save the staying at home for being well. It would be alot more fun that way.

:: ellise ::

2008-01-27T22:01:00.000-08:00

My beautiful little Ellise is three today. There is a sort of sadness in that, because now bragging about her advancement will diminish slightly as it is more impressive that a two-year-old says "bushel and a peck" than a three-year-old. But. Even if she ends up to be no prodigy at all, if her development will mark the charts at about the middle, I will always be exceedingly proud of her for who she is. She is my Ellise, and she is fabulous. Happy birthday, baby!

Feeding the ducks with Lori's Andres

:: sometimes, i love today ::

2008-01-23T12:17:00.001-08:00

I usually shift slowly, railing against change for change's sake: why must things always be new? I prefer worn-in shoes and heirlooms.

But. Today I love today, as the future mingles with the past more decisively in the form of...

a podcast.

And the gem from a podcast today, written by a painter but giving insight to writing:

"There is only one true thing: instantly paint what you see. When you've got it, you've got it. When you haven't, you begin again. All the rest is humbug." Edouard Manet

(it's his birthday today)

2008-01-16T09:58:00.000-08:00

Jury duty: it's like all the reading community decided to sit in one big room together. Everyone's a reader here, albeit at different levels. There are a few Stephen King's and some cheap romances, which are just a breath away from the fashion magazines. Those are shiny filth. And I am, as usual, trying to glide over these to get a good view, this time on the wings of John Steinbeck's East of Eden. Virtue is its own kind of burden.

:: happy birthday to me ::

2008-01-05T00:04:00.000-08:00

Twenty-six new ways of looking at the world.
At least, that's what I hope.
I honestly don't know that I am
Higher now than last year at this time --
It frightens me to think I might have just been
Crawling downward this whole time.
Or maybe I'm a mole and all this digging
And the darkness of my hole are what's
Supposed to be. Maybe.

:: 2007 ::

2008-01-04T23:50:00.000-08:00

In 2007 I learned:

When I don't know where to go, I stop moving.
I thrive on encouragement.
Motherhood is not a bit like aunthood, and I am only good at the latter.
Above all I am selfish, and emotions make me more so. I am a much better friend when there are no boys around.
Wounds heal, but sometimes they leave a scar.
Decisions that I mean to last a lifetime end the day I stop choosing them.
I can save money -- I just have to not spend it.
Time is a faithful instructor.
Marriage is what happens when two people spend all their time together.
My $100 jeans are no better than my $12 ones. In fact, I think I like the cheap ones better.

:: christmas ::

2008-01-01T23:49:00.000-08:00

:: christmas ::

2007-12-20T23:53:00.000-08:00

Winter is hard on my soul; my hands are always cold. At least there's Christmas in the middle or I'd probably turn gray like everything else. Instead it's all red and tinsel. These are the things that keep me warm.

:: loved ::

2007-12-19T12:08:00.001-08:00

Some people love me in spite of who I am; others, because of who I am. It is in the presence of the latter that I am most free.

2007-12-08T22:01:00.000-08:00

It's Monday night and we're here by Christmas tree light. Barely hanging on right now, not emotionally but mentally. I feel stupider today than most others, like my words are all syllable-stutters and my sentence, once presented, made so much more sense in my head. Is what I write even reflective of reality? This is my lab, with everything measure out and lined up in sterilized beakers. Squeaky clean. Even my messes look neat once they're bottled and corked.

:: dear winter, ::

2007-12-06T18:29:00.001-08:00

If you weren't so dreary, I think I'd like you better. I do love wearing sweaters, and scarves, and having a good reason to stay inside and drink hot things. But maybe you should consider sprucing yourself up a bit, maybe work on being a little brighter. No one wants a cold front at their party, and it's a bit of a disappointment to work all day and find there's no day left to drive away in. So all I'm saying is, if you plan on staying, do you think you could lighten up a little?

:: the pursuit of God, ch. 4 ::

2007-11-29T23:55:00.000-08:00

There are things I can't see, voices I can't hear. There are melodies I haven't sung, depths of relationship I have never known. There is God, beckoning me to look for Him with the eyes of my soul. There is reality worth living in, dreams which are not distant but begin today.

God, how can I know You? How can I look with the sealed-tight eyes in my soul? Peel off my layers of unbelief, of false notions about reality and the spiritual realm. I want to know You, see You, taste and feel You. I want You in my still waters.

"We need never shout across the spaces to an absent God. He is nearer than our own soul, closer than our most secret thoughts." a.w. tozer

2007-11-25T22:54:00.000-08:00

For every which way

in which

you made my day:

thank you.

2007-11-25T22:51:00.000-08:00

I wish I had a butterfly net for my thoughts. I have fantastic ideas, beautiful little poems and witty lines of prose, sometimes great inventions or depths of understanding God; then they flutter away, all shimmering bright colors, and are gone.

I cannot get them back.

2007-11-18T23:45:00.000-08:00

It's nice to be able to replace people's losses. In fact, it's almost impossible to participate with altruistic motives, without stealing a bit of pleasure for ourselves while we lend a hand.

The problem is when we can't help, when we don't have what they need brimming out of our full closets. When they lose something like a Dad. Or husband. Then there's no good feeling to pass around, just the tissue.

(I'm so sorry.)

:: word ::

2007-11-14T00:17:00.000-08:00

The Word of the Lord stands forever. I'm thinking about Jesus, about the preservation of what's valuable throughout history. I know of no artifacts related to Jesus. Except the shroud (which is sketchy), nothing remains. Nothing, except the words he spoke.

I'm thinking about this because I'm trying to understand what is worth life pursuit. Is God impressed with our cities, our museums, our internet?

2007-11-13T11:36:00.000-08:00

"We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop."
Mother Teresa

:: the neediest need ::

2007-11-08T16:29:00.000-08:00

Let's pretend there was a big fire that swept through the area. This fire, while it did burn through huge sections of land, managed to miss heavily populated areas and hit mostly the rural, the uninsured.

But insurance, that's not what I want to talk about. Back to my scenario.

Hypothetically speaking, the main church in the area would see this need (literally over 100 homes/buildings burned just in one zip code) and be moved to action, and would naturally set up a sort of free store. People all over the county would want to help, would be pouring in donations. This would fill the store with things, which would in turn fill the store with people who need those things.

Now.

Let's imagine that in this area where there were fires and burned homes, there were also non-burned homes belonging to the poor. Who are usually the first to hear about free things. Who would then want to come supplement their poverty with wonderfully donated free things like new shoes and soft sheets and my never-used wall organizer.

I'm not saying I would know what to do, but it is an interesting sorting that happens, a hierarchy of needs. (Aren't we glad that hasn't happened here?)

:: like a bran breakfast muffin ::

2007-10-30T11:32:00.000-07:00

One of the advantages of being female is that gatherings of ladies usually include food: delicious, homemade food. I like this very much, so I was duly pleased when I saw the snack table this morning at our Bible study. Until I got closer and saw that the dark brown muffins were bran. Bran, as we all know, tastes very much like Grape Nuts, which taste very much like gravel. I was disappointed. Not one to pass up delicious homemade food, though, I took one.

And I wish I would've taken two because these were not bran muffins, they were chocolate chip bran muffins. Scrumptious. What if I had passed it up? So I'm looking for the chocolate chips in the bran today, and I've smiled alot along the way.

2007-10-29T23:19:00.001-07:00

We were having a scientific conversation, the two-year-old and I. A Saturn in front of us led to a listing of the planets and questions like Is the moon a planet? Which led to talk of stars, of course, because you can't talk about the sky without talking about stars. This was when she made an important correlation: That's like Elmo's Mother Goose when he sings "Twinkle, twinkle little star..." Which was my reminder that she is still, in fact, two. And I like her.

2007-10-27T00:35:00.000-07:00

What of hope, then, in a world set to impede my supply? It reaches around, beyond my reality, closes its eyes and smiles this reply:

Hope is not dead just misplaced. You build paper palaces, paint in grays. Your life is limited to the limits of limitation. You don't even know how to begin hoping. What kind of anticipation is based in an utter unknown? So faith, then, and hope, but in the mean time: love is what you wrap your mind around. And,

Love. Never. Fails.

:: so tonight instead of sleeping ::

2007-10-23T01:52:00.000-07:00

We made cookies at midnight and stood in the backyard to watch San Miguel burn. It was so quiet. A few neighbors were standing in the street to improve their view. Why do we do this? It was like watching an execution. The news has been on for three days. They must be tired of talking, but we're not tired of watching. It's all fiction until your home sweet home is the one burning.

2007-10-04T17:09:00.000-07:00

Overcoming my fears, one ball python at a time.

:: lightening up ::

2007-09-28T23:55:00.001-07:00

It just seemed like the time. Those of you who have become weary of returning to this little spot only to find nothing new, well, it's just been winter here and I promise there are plenty of primary colors waiting to burst out once the snow melts. In the mean time, the links on the right should carry you through my hibernation.

2007-08-30T23:19:00.000-07:00

I'm with Owen Wilson on this one. Tonight they were all how could he's and what makes a person so desperate's. And I was sitting silent, understanding with great depths of comprehension how a person could want to shuffle off this mortal coil. It's not that life is so terrible and unhappy, but nothing around me has sustaining value. We are all looking forward to this or that, cornered and calendared into mouthfuls of memories. Seasons keep us sane. The rain. But underneath those layers of protection, peeled down to what am I and what am I doing here, there are a few discouraging realities. Yet we push bravely on, all of us living for someone else so it's a good thing everyone else is alive so we have a reason to live.

:: eclipse ::

2007-08-28T10:28:00.000-07:00

Lastnight I was complaining to a friend that no one ever tells me when celestial glories are going to happen (like meteor showers, for example). Then, not two hours later, I got a call just to let me know that there was going to be a full lunar eclipse at 2:30 am. Beautiful.

Thank you, Kait. And thank you, God.

:: maze ::

2007-08-21T00:36:00.000-07:00

There's so much involved in living. In some moments I see (or think I see) that I am a player, a character. That I am small, but not like a marionette with no choices. Small like a mouse caught in a maze but there's really no wrong direction. It's just turning and dead ends -- then soaring hope when it seems I made the right turn. But all along all they're looking at is the pace of my steps and the strength of my gait.

It isn't unfair, it's just a puzzle with no box to go off of. So right now what looks like a forest might end up being just a few trees standing huddled together in the middle of an open field. And I see deep shadows but the darkest ones are always from the brightest suns.

:: ms. gervasi ::

2007-08-09T00:35:00.000-07:00

I watched Miss Potter tonight and it has ruined me. Don't you think it would be very nice to call everyone by their formal name, mostly their last name, and only address friends with the first? That would make a much easier sifting of acquaintances and friends. And then, when a person really likes you, you know because they want to call you by your first name. Mandy. You may call me Mandy. Yes, that would be a good system.

2007-07-21T22:23:00.001-07:00

If I could pull myself out outside of time and my limited mind, I would consistently know the outpouring of love my Father has for me. I would not be confined to today, its scope and the way minutes wear away the hours and make me tired. I would simply be, forever in an undiminishing state of His awareness.

I wish I could be now.

2007-07-20T19:25:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure which part of my mind this came from, but here it is. Attached, I'm sure, to real-time thoughts but not to any real conversation.

Let yourself in, the door is open. I was hoping
you'd stop by. I can't say why I thought
you might (then you'd know I've thought about you
in a multitude of ways of which this
one is just a small representation). Ahem.
Collecting myself, I pour you tea. Dear me,
it is so lovely that you came today.
How is it that you found your way?
It is so far and you came all alone --
Oh, just the fireworks and the neon sign?
The searchlights worked this time? And
all along I'd figured I was living among
deaf and blind. (Why else would they
not come? Why else would I be all
alone?)
So make yourself at home while I
decide which perfectly-made bed might
suit you. If, that is, you plan to
spend your life, I mean, the night here.

:: switchfoot ::

2007-07-05T22:38:00.000-07:00

"Everything inside screams for second life..."

:: bonnie ::

2007-06-28T15:02:00.001-07:00

2007-06-14T20:57:00.000-07:00

I'll know I'm grown up when I start talking about the back of my closet. Adults seem to have the most interesting closets, with both front and back and things in between that surprise them. Those are the things they pulled out to wear today, which I complimented them on, which made them talk about this magical closet filled with things they've forgotten about.

I wish getting dressed in the morning could be that exciting now.

:: david jay ::

2007-06-10T22:57:00.001-07:00

During the summer before my senior year of high school, I found an old guitar in the attic of the house we were living in and decided I would learn how to play. I was really terrible; so was the guitar. But persistence pays off and eventually I wasn't stopping at every chord change to move my fingers.

That was about the time my little sister decided she wanted to learn. She wanted me to show her how to play, teach her how to sing, pass my hard-earned lessons on to her. I didn't want to.

I was a knowledge miser.

Something about growing up makes us nicer to be around, or at least that has been the case with me. I don't remember when it started but I remember thinking: I want to be generous. I am both recipient and donor, in one of many such life cycles.

In the world of wedding photography (Were we talking about wedding photography? Well, we are now.), I haven't come across a more generous person than David Jay. His pictures were my first inspiration to try wedding photography; his encouragement made me follow through. I was reminded of his generosity (in the form of online tutorials) recently as I struggled to catch up with everyone using Lightroom. And while this won't even make sense to very many people, I just wanted to say for the record that I'm grateful for the generosity I've been shown and hope I always pass that along.

:: linus ::

2007-05-12T22:21:00.000-07:00

I got this luxurious blanket a few months ago, for Christmas. I sleep with it at night, pull it out for naps, take it on overnight trips: I love this synthetic-down-and-polyester goodness.

My blanket and I were on the couch yesterday, thinking about a nap and more presently about the soup I was having for lunch. It was raining outside so we were all wrapped up together: me, the blanket, the soup. I'm not sure if it was the meal or me who was messy, but I wound up with soup spills on my favorite blanket.

As I was spot-washing the situation, I thought about how I could have been a better blanket keeper and had it far away from my mess. I could have kept it on my bed, or safe in a drawer. And I was thinking about you, everyone I wrap up in and want close and then spill on. Sorry, and thank you.

2007-05-05T22:43:00.000-07:00

I'm waiting for someone to say the magic words, to slap their knee and tell me: Just kidding! It's getting so dark here, dark enough to cry quietly and no one will know. I just want the lights to flip on and for this empty place to be a stage, these days to be scenes, these words to be scripted and there's a clean happy ending just waiting for me to read it.

For once in my life, I think I wish things were fake.

2007-04-23T23:58:00.000-07:00

I got bent in the heat today. Someone with clumsy hands twisted the wrong way and I have lost my shape. But the heat isn't over and I'll be straight again before we're cool. I just don't know when that will be. (When you are honest with me. When will that be?)

:: till we have faces ::

2007-04-15T23:57:00.000-07:00

Wondering at the wonder of words, how CS Lewis has become my mentor these last hours. How I, mortal, can see for a moment the stamp of the deity in whose image I am made. I feel like a god in this realm, given earth to subdue. How the animals and rivers and skies must wonder when I walk crest-fallen, I who am placed far above these in both value and authority. A tree cannot cut me down, a river cannot ford me, skies cannot hold me.

And I wish in this moment that the books written in my mind could be transcribed on an unfurling scroll. I live lives there. This is just a postcard, not the journey. I wish I could take you with me.

:: tonight ::

2007-04-14T00:16:00.000-07:00

There was much twirling and laughing, skipping through yellow-lighted hallways. There was music and dancing. It was a party.

For Ellise, it was just another day.

:: a little bit bruised ::

2007-04-12T14:20:00.000-07:00

He stopped by just to give me a flower and a piece of chocolate. He, years younger than me, with no ulterior motives other than to make a girl smile.

And I cried a little, just a little, at how much an orange flower, hand-picked, could pick up my shrunken heart and make it feel like maybe, just maybe, this is how it's supposed to feel.

:: ram in the thicket ::

2007-04-04T00:01:00.000-07:00

Animists live in fear of the spirit world, but do their best to appease their heartless gods. They also try to fool them, giving broken offerings and trinkets instead of treasures. I remember watching animistic funeral processions, caskets laden with broken cassette players and worn-out clothing; after all, how will the dead know any difference?

I think I do the same with God. I tend to hoist things on the altar that don't matter much to me. Take this minor item and I'll even throw in a pointless hour or two of selfish service.

But God is not dead or blind like the gods of the broken cassette players. He wants me to give a sacrifice of my first-fruits, my Isaac.

So with trembling hands I placed mine on the altar. With much negotiation and bargaining but with obedience I left it there, ready to do what I needed to: kill it.

And at the very last moment, after goodbyes were over, I spotted the ram in the thicket.

:: making grown men cry ::

2007-04-03T17:09:00.000-07:00

It has always been amazing to me that words can be expressed in so many dimensions, on flat pieces of paper or in sound surrounding our living rooms. That they can then be carried to other places, our thoughts, transmitted across continents, shared with friends. I love words. I love their role in explaining life.

But they are limited. I remembered this when I sat down to write today. I wanted to describe a tear, the little trickle that ran down a crease by his nose. I almost missed it through my own but there it was, shouting without the help of words that I matter. I felt the full weight of that absence of words. I matter.

Thank you for the things you did and didn't say today. Thank you.

:: kaela ::

2007-03-28T00:39:00.000-07:00

It doesn't make sense how one little human can hold so much meaning without ever accomplishing anything but being. But here she is, all tiny and bundled and greatly loved, to remind me that I want to know what she knows: to be me, and let that be enough.